


Fated

by ashilrak



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:21:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22363273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashilrak/pseuds/ashilrak
Summary: It was supposed to be a big deal, the soulmarks. Magical maturity was different for everyone. For most, around 21.Harry thought the killing curses had something to do with it. Death meant maturity; it forced it. He had thought he had felt something, burning on his shoulder, when he was on the forest floor. He ignored it at the time; he had bigger things to worry about.In the end, he wasn’t the one who noticed it. Harry wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than the alternative.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	Fated

**Author's Note:**

> I have absolutely no idea where this came from.

It was supposed to be a big deal, the soulmarks. Magical maturity was different for everyone. For most, around 21.

Harry thought the killing curses had something to do with it. Death meant maturity; it forced it. He had thought he had felt something, burning on his shoulder, when he was on the forest floor. He ignored it at the time; he had bigger things to worry about.

In the end, he wasn’t the one who noticed it. Harry wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than the alternative.

He and Ginny were alone, together. For possibly the first time. There was no worry of someone walking in, no pressure of the outside world bearing down on them. It was just them, together. No one else.

A tension Harry didn’t know he’d been carrying dropped from his shoulders when Ginny’s arms wrapped around his middle, her fingers brushing the soft fabric of his shirt. 

She was pressed against his back, a warm weight. It was nice. Pleasant. Something Harry was entirely unused to. 

There were times Harry resented being so short. Now, with Ginny’s lips brushing the back of his neck, was not one of them.

Ginny sighed, the warm breath fanning across his skin. 

“Harry,” she said, her voice soft and warm and comforting. “I’ve missed you.”

He reached up to squeeze her hands, pressing them closer to his stomach, trying to surround her grip from all sides. “I’ve missed you too,” he breathed out, the words barely audible. 

Harry let go of Ginny’s hands and turned in her arms, reaching a hand up to trace along the side of her face. He couldn’t have stopped his smile from stretching his cheeks if he wanted to. Her warm, brown eyes looked up at him, gazing straight into his soul. The depths spoke of the terrors they had shared.

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. She tilted her head, leaning into his hand.

She was beautiful. Pale skin, warm eyes, freckles dotting across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Too many times had he fallen asleep with her face in his mind, the only source of comfort when he felt like he had nothing.

He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. Ginny gave a small huff in response. Harry’s smile widened.

“Harry,” she said, her voice a teasing lilt.

He bent forward and pressed his lips to hers.

If Harry were a vainer man, and one given to flights of fancy, he might have wanted this moment captured in paint. If he had glanced at this mirror at the same moment that Ginny pressed forward and deepened the kiss, her hands coming up to tangle in his hair, his chest might have been filled with the same feeling one gets when viewing the works of the old masters. Harry had never felt that feeling, but he would have recognized it all the same. It was undeniable. They were beautiful together. 

But Harry was not a vain man, and he did not look in the mirror as his hands crept under Ginny’s jumper, his fingers caressing soft skin. He did not see how perfectly they came together, the sight of Ginny’s pale fingers peeking through his dark curls, how his tan fingers contrasted just so to the pink of Ginny’s flushed neck.

They were stunning.

The passion and sparks flying between them even more so. They had waited so long for this moment.

Neither of them were prone to hesitation. 

They pulled apart to breath, chests heaving as they greedily sucked in air. Dark eyes took each other in. Harry’s glasses were crooked, pushed up on one side from when Ginny was just a tad too enthusiastic.

Not that Harry would ever complain about that.

A moment passed, the air electric, before they came together again. Any unsurety that might have been there before gone. Where before fingers had pressed, asking for invitation before creeping beneath fabric, now they clawed. Trying desperately to remove the layers that separated skin from skin.

It was Ginny who pressed forward. Ginny who give him a beautiful little smile as she tugged Harry’s shirt over his head. Ginny who pushed him until he felt the chill of the glass of the mirror along his heated back. 

Ginny who bit his lower lip as she pulled on his belt.

Harry was breathless, lost in the sensations. 

Whenever he had thought about this, and he had, many times. It was always him leading the way. Ginny fighting to get closer to him, releasing small sounds under his ministrations. 

This, Ginny grabbing his wrists and lifting his arms above his head, pressing them against the mirror, while he gasped as Ginny bit down this side of his neck - this was so much better.

Ginny’s hands pulled away, moving back down to undo the button of his jeans. Harry’s wrists remained where she had put them, arms extended above his head.

Ginny pushed down his jeans and her hands went to his hips, pulling him forward. He stepped out of the denim. Leaving him in nothing but his boxers while Ginny stood in front of him, fully dressed. 

“You know,” Harry said. “This isn’t how I imagined this going.”

Ginny smiled. “I know.”

She looked him up and down, a bright red flush high on her cheeks. 

Her eyes froze on a point just above his shoulder, all the color leaving her face.

Harry felt confusion rise in him. “What? What’s wrong?” 

Ginny shook her head as if trying to clear an image from her brain. Whatever she wanted to get rid of, it didn’t work. 

Her eyes narrowed, her posture shifted. Gone was the soft and warm woman who had been trying to see where he was most sensitive, in her place was the Ginny that Harry had seen during the final battle at Hogwarts.

For the first time since the door shut behind him, Harry was all too aware that his wand was in a pocket in his cloak, and that Ginny was between him and it. 

He felt his posture shift in response. Even if he was confused, his body recognized a coming confrontation when it saw one. Muscle memory served him well.

“Ginny,” Harry tried again. “Tell me what’s the matter. What did I do?”

Ginny blinked quickly. If Harry didn’t know better, he’d think she was blinking away tears. She inhaled deeply.

“How long have you known?” Her voice was sharp, demanding answers that Harry didn’t know he had.  
“Know what?” Harry asked, holding his hands out in front of him and forcing his body to relax. 

It went against everything in him to hold still, defenseless in the face of possible danger. But he had to. For Ginny.

“Your soulmark.”

Harry winced at her tone.

Confusion filled him again. “What soulmark? I don’t have a soulmark!” He hoped she could read the honesty on his face. “Don’t you think you would have been the first person I’d tell?”

She laughed. A harsh sound.

“Why?” she asked. “So you could break my heart? Again?!”

He took in a deep breath. He could feel the heat of anger rising in his chest. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, stepping forward. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Because either you got a tattoo or there’s someone else’s handwriting on your back!” Ginny yelled, her voice almost hoarse. “Because it sure as hell isn’t mine!”

A moment passed. Ginny’s hands balled into fists at her sides. 

Harry felt himself deflate. “How do you know it isn’t yours?” he asked. 

“Turn around.” Ginny’s tone left no room for argument. 

He did. A second later, he heard a sharp intake of breath followed by a choking sound.

“Oh, Harry,” Ginny breathed, stepping closer. He felt a finger trace a pattern on his back. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” he asked. 

He knew there was something more going on here. More than just a misunderstanding about a soulmark. This sudden change was something he had no idea how to deal with.

“I knew I recognized the handwriting,” Ginny said. Her finger paused on his back. “I just didn’t know from where.”

Harry huffed, unable to fully disguise the frustration that his confusion had morphed into. “Who is it then?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

He snorted. “No, I figure I won’t.”

It wasn’t her. If it weren’t for the press of Ginny’s single finger on his back, holding him in place, Harry honestly had no idea what he would have done.

Ginny sighed.

A moment later, her arms were around his waist. 

Harry stared at the mirror. Ginny’s eyes looked sad, burdened by some age-old grief.

She pressed a kiss to his shoulder and met his reflection’s gaze.

“It’s Voldemort, Harry,” she whispered. She pressed another kiss to his shoulder.

Harry collapsed to the floor, his knees hitting the wood with a dull thud.

Of course it was.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to reach out to me at my [tumblr](http://ashilrak.tumblr.com/)


End file.
